


Spiral Down

by Lightheaded_Dullahan



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Sakura is there for like a single part but still gonna add her, Tags are in chapter notes, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, this is why i can't have nice things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightheaded_Dullahan/pseuds/Lightheaded_Dullahan
Summary: Blame D8ONO and me for everything in here, good or bad. This is just a collection of stuff for a character that either won't fit in a story or is just for fun that one of use thought up. But mostly blameD8ONOme.





	Spiral Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [D8ONO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D8ONO/gifts).



> D8ONO said the first chapter was angst so I guess this is angst. Or a weird horror drug trip. Call it what you want, it'll likely be accurate.
> 
> As for the warnings; If referenced drug use, drug overdose, a brief description of bile, mention of breaking bones, description of drowning, and blood mention make you uncomfortable, then skip this and wait for the fluff and comedy if this even interests you.

_Honestly, that Holmes…_

Even after waning him away from such drugs, Dr. Watson found the Morocco leather case with the syringe atop the kitchen table. He was going to throw that thing into the fireplace one of these days. The detective claimed he only used it when he needed the stimulation during difficult cases though Watson already hounded him on his worries of what it could do to the man’s mental and physical health. At this point, it was better to just toss the case away and deal with Holmes’ withdrawal front and center. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop the tobacco habit, he’d be a hypocrite if he tried. But if he could wane him from the cocaine then that would be more than enough to improve the work environment that they lived in. 

The door to the apartment is thrown open, the frantic steps going up the stairs turn into a stomping run as someone runs into the doctor as he stepped into the foyer to see who had come in. The body threw itself onto him, the sheer force mixed with the doctor’s surprised nearly sent him down to the ground. Watson brought the tremoring body down to a sitting position as their breathing became shallow. 

“Holmes! What on earth is going on with you?”

“Watson,” it sounded like he had just finished heaving up his stomach in its entirety, ”Watson I can’t see anything.”

“Mighty quick getting up the stairs for a blind man.”

“I can’t see any more. It was blurry then, but now I can’t see.”

Watson held the back of his hand up to Holmes’ forehead. It was slick with sweat and the man was burning up against the doctor’s hand. The detective was heaved up from his position and laid down on the couch, his coat left to the floor like an abandoned napkin at the table. Watson hurried to the kitchen to get a washcloth and collect a handful of ice into it as it was tied up like a bag. Returning to Holmes’ side, he laid the cloth on his forehead and began to rid the man of his extra clothing. The detective was overheating and he needed to get his body cooled off quickly. He once again left to fill a bucket with water, returning even as the bucket was being filled to move the ice around as to not leave the other man unattended for long. 

Once the bucket was filled with cooled water, Watson carried the water over to Holmes and dumped towels from the washroom into it. Wringing out the extra water, he began to pat down the other man in an attempt to cool him down further. His tremors hadn’t died down, the poor man was shaking under the touch of the towels. 

“Holmes, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“My chest, it started tightening. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t tell what was happening, I needed to get home.”

“Where were you?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was going the right way but then I wasn’t there, oh Watson I don’t know.”

“You took another dose of that drug, didn’t you? Even after all that I do to keep you from it, you go off and inject more into you.”

“The case, I couldn’t focus, I just needed to focus.”

Removing the makeshift icepack, Watson pat down his forehead with a towel. He shook his head disapprovingly, even knowing Holmes’ claim of not being able to see. His breathing seemingly refused to settle. Whatever had happened must have affected him greatly for this much of a reaction. It was highly concerning, it wasn’t like the other man to act like this. As the doctor went to resoak the towels, Holmes reached out his hand in an awkward attempt to grab him. His shallow breathing was becoming worse. 

“I can’t breathe. John, John I can’t breathe. Oh god, I can’t breathe”

Watson dropped the towels in a panic and pulled Holmes into a sitting position. His airways looked clear, but his pulse was racing. Too quickly for a normal pulse. The shallow breathing was getting worse. He needed to get him to a hospital. 

“Mrs. Hudson! Call an ambulance! Holmes needs to go to the hospital!”

He can hear the landlady drop whatever she was holding and rush to the phone. Of course, a shout like that would cause a panic, he was a doctor yelling for an ambulance. The irony would not be lost on him as he tried to keep Holmes breathing. The wheezing breaths are beginning to grate on his ears, he can hear the lungs’ sharp intake with every breath. The man’s breathing is becoming slower as the landlady calls up that they are on their way. Holmes leaned on the other man’s shoulder as they started to stand up. He needed to get down the stairs to lessen the time it would take to get Holmes to the hospital. As they made their way down, it felt as if he was leaning on him more and more the closer to they got to the bottom of the stairs. Once they reached the bottom it felt as if the detective was pushing his entire weight onto him. Watson brought up a hand to the other man’s neck. He couldn’t feel a pulse.

“Holmes? Holmes!” He shook the man’s shoulders as he leaned him up against a wall. 

“Sherlock!”

Watson shot up in a sweat. He tried to slow his breath as he held his face in his hands. The doctor ran a hand through his hair as he took deep breathes to counteract the shallow breathes that were threatening to billow out. He grabbed a fist full of his hair as he finally got his breathing under control. 

Holmes. Oh god, Holmes. The man nearly rolled out of the bed as he ran past his glasses on the bedside table and threw open his door. There a sound of surprise he can hardly hear as he began to lose his balance. He throws his arms out to brace himself, letting out a pained groan as he dropped down like a rock on the hard floor. His vision was swirling around him like a whirlpool. He could feel himself start to heave. The bile that dropped down to the floor looked like a horrid mixture of half-digested sweet potatoes and various fruit. The sight of it forced more bile to travel up his throat and join it on the floor. He can’t hear anything but ringing as something slowly pulled him up so he’s standing and lead him to the bathroom. 

His hair is pulled back as he dry heaved into the toilet. There’s a hand rubbing circles in his back as his throat felt raw. Once his heaving ceased and he’s turned away from the toilet, a hand brings a cup of cool water in front of him. He paused before going to grab at it. His hand misses the cup and the other hand instead helps him drink it without the risk of it falling from his hands or being drunk too quickly. 

“Dr. Watson, are you feeling okay?”

"I think so...Holmes! Where is Holmes?”

“Next to you.”

Holmes finds himself stabling the man who had just thrown himself at him. Mrs. Hudson gave him a look that Watson couldn’t see. The detective gave her a nod and she left the glass on the floor with them as she went to clean up the vomit. Watson let out a shaky breath. 

“Oh god, you’re alive.”

“Of course I am. I’m not the one who took such a heavy blow to the back of the head.”

“You, you,” Watson can’t string his words together.

“A nightmare? Did you dream of the war?”

“No, no, you were dead. You died.”

The detective raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I think you’d know better than to think I’d die from anything other than old age.”

“You-!”

Holmes flicked his forehead. It didn’t help his pounding head in the slightest, but it certainly let him know he wasn’t dreaming. He gave an apology as Watson nursed his aching head. He burrowed his head into the detective’s shoulder when he was pulled closer. The harsh midday light was covered up by the action, something the doctor was grateful for. 

“Watson...are you supposed to be soaking wet?”

The doctor’s eyes shot open to gaze at the blue sky. No, it was a sea. It was as if it was both in a way. He pushed himself up from the ground. Or was it a shallow body of water? He looked around to find he wasn’t wet but it certainly looked like he was standing in a shallow body of water. 

_SE.RA.PH_

The word is in his head, but he can’t recall why. He pushed his glasses up and began to walk. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he had a gut feeling about where he needed to go. The strange, water-like ground rippled under his feet. 

“Sensei!” 

A girl with long purple hair and a red ribbon in it was running up to him. She wore a school uniform underneath a long white lab coat. There’s a name to her, floating around in his head. Sakura, the student nurse that assisted him, that’s who she was. But she looked so panicked. That was unusual, she was normally so calm. 

“Sensei, you need to come back!”

Back? When had he left? He had been in the office. He had been in the office. Yet, he was out here. Wherever ‘here’ was. Sakura reached out and grabbed his hand. The sudden pull as she tried to get him to follow her nearly makes him trip over his own two feet. 

“Sakura, what? What is happening?”

“Something’s gone wrong, you need to get back!”

▅▅ ▅▅, ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅

The static shot through his head like a bullet. At the moment his body jerked forward, the hand pulling him suddenly dropped. Her hand had turned into a fragment of code as he fell to the ground. She turned at the sound of his impact, falling down herself as her knee turned into nothing but numbers. The girl looked over at him, the fear in her eyes seem to drain the blood from her face. Watson tried to push himself up, only to collapse back down as something sharp jabs through him. It felt like lightning had pulse through him, frying at his nerves. He could feel his nerves being fried until they couldn’t take it anymore. The doctor couldn’t focus, his nerves were screaming out as more and more of them became overridden by the electricity. A pitch black boot plants itself on his hand in his field of view. The weight is increasing until his nerves fizzle out and the pain is replaced by the image of the heel of his hand being crushed under the sharp heel of a boot. Bone by bone.

**_Radius._** _Connecting with the ulna._

**_Ulna._** _Matching with the radius._

**_Scaphoid._** _80% cartilage._

**_Lunate._** _The distal surface is deep and curved._

**_Triquetrum._** _Three-faced._

**_Pisiform._** _A single smooth side and three rough sides._

**_Trapezium._** _Homologous with the first distal carpal of amphibians and reptiles._

**_Trapezoid._** _Provide a bony superstructure for the hand._

**_Capitate._** _The wrist._

**_Hamate._** _The hook of hamate._

“Mr.-!”

**_Metacarpus._** _Connection to the fingers._

His hearing is cut out as a face obscures his view of whoever the student is calling out to. The color drains from his face as his nerves were slowly becoming completely fried. It was like looking in a carnival mirror. A distorted version of himself was smiling down at him. His vision began to deteriorate as the lightning coursing through his body ignited his final nerves. That doppelganger mouthed something to him as the nerves in his brain began to shut down. 

It was cold. The returning feeling was soon taken over by numbness. His vision was hazy as he pushed himself up from the freezing ground. There’s a heavy fog covering the area, sending a chill to roll off his back like freezing rain. Watson pulled his coat around him tighter, shivering violently. Pushing up his glasses as he breathed out puffs of warm air. He rubbed his hands together as he looked around. The heavy coat and fur-lined boots were only half a blessing. The freezing air penetrated his clothes to chill his bones.

“Watson!”

The doctor jerked his head around to find the origin of the voice. That was Holmes, it had to be. He heard him once again, forcing himself to run despite his freezing limbs towards the voice.

“Holmes!”

“Watson!”

In front of him, a familiar shape from the fog grew in size as it approached. Another call came from the shape as Watson neared it. Its face was still partially covered by the fog, but it was Holmes. No doubt about it.

“Holmes!”

He was an arm’s reach away. His hand shot out a second too late. The detective’s face was in full view for only a moment. The ground- the ice collapsed under his feet as a rare and relieved smile broke out his face. The water was so cold it burned. It soaked through his layers into his skin and his bones. It snuck into his mouth and nose, burning as every attempt to get the water out invited more back in from the impulsive nature of breathing. He felt like a masochistic machine that continuously let water into its circuits. His body squirmed and seized as his stomach filled with the freezing water, his lungs being flooded just as quickly. No matter how hard Watson tried to cover his nose and mouth, the water seeped in like he was a sponge with no regard for his brain. He tried to swim back to where he had fallen through.

Watson couldn’t find it. He was drowning and couldn’t get out of the frigid water. His glasses were lost to the dark waters below him and his eyes were burning. Above him, the ice was split as his struggle against the water slowed. He forced his arm to reach out to the hole in the ice as something shot through it to try and grab him. He could feel his own grip start to falter as a distorted voice was yelling something. 

A warm liquid trickled down his throat as he ground his teeth together. It felt as if his insides had been pushed around haphazardly with little regard to what it might break or disturb. He hacked something up from his throat, a red color coated his hand as it dripped down from his chin. Whatever he hacked up looked half eaten, with bite marks and saliva coating the bloody thing. 

He was leaning against the wall with a hand holding his abdomen. His head felt like it was being pounded by a hammer. Was he dreaming again? Everything felt real, this had to be some sort of lucid dream. A voice in his head called it more of a lucid nightmare. Watson began to continue his supposed treck down the hallway. Puddles of blood were going one way, so he simply went the opposite way. 

Looking down at the bloody shirt that seemed to start where his hand was holding his abdomen. Watson moved his hand a little, lessening the pressure on the perceived wound. It was traveling up from just under his stomach. It was stitched together, but it felt like whoever had done it had him awake and aware as it was uneven and sloppy. He could feel the stitches as he poked and prodded at it, he shuddered to think why on earth he’d allow someone so inexperienced to perform surgery on him. 

The doctor stumbled, only stabilized by the wall. Where was he? His breathing was short and light, too light to get enough air. He brought a hand to his neck, unable to pick up his pulse. His brain couldn’t piece together what was happening. His steps became limp and shaky. Watson leaned against the wall as his knees buckled. 

Watson shook his head. His body just didn’t want to cooperate. He could just rest a little for now. A short little nap and then he would continue on his way. It wouldn’t be long at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut this in half cause it was just going to end up being like 5k words of just torturing the poor guy and I'm not that sadistic. 
> 
>  
> 
> No matter what the cat says.


End file.
